


There's a Hole in My Soul; Can You Fix it?

by PicklesCook



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, mentions of Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicklesCook/pseuds/PicklesCook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a quote i saw on tumblr</p><p>Hale Family is alive but everyone is giving Derek 'space' after his relationship with Kate (theyre all kind of angry at him for a lot of things he did when with her but srsly wasnt his fault he was completely smitten for her ok and she was an emotionally abusive bitch who tried to kill Laura). Laura actively tries to talk to him tho but he ignores her calls because he feels super guilty because his girlfriend tried to kill her and she ended up in the hospital for a week<br/>Stiles mom died of cancer when he was ten and his dad and his relationship is distant at best same with his relationship with Scott<br/>actually Stiles is just rlly distant since highschool and everyone is rlly worried about him but they dont really know what to do about it they just cant get through to him and he himself doesnt even know whats wrong and why he cant manage to feel anything anymore<br/>they meet and things happen and they become really good friends</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Hole in My Soul; Can You Fix it?

**Author's Note:**

> idk i was kind of out of it when i wrote this  
> “We lit our cigarettes off of each other’s. We were never meant to be, no. We had sex, but I could never let her touch me. She couldn’t have extracted my soul from all the places it was hiding. That’s okay. We were what we were, when we needed it. She was out on my balcony, late one night. I was in the kitchen, when I sensed a change in energy. I walked out onto the balcony to find her sitting with a cigarette in her fingers, trembling with tears streaming down her cheeks. I sat down in front of her, and said gently, “Come here, sweetheart.” She slid into my lap, and sobbed into my shoulder. I remember the exact feeling of her back beneath my fingertips, as I ran my fingers up and down her spine. My god, I held her, and for the first time in so long, I felt something in my heart that resembled softness. It was a heartbreaking, heartmaking feeling. She melted my permafrost in that moment. I cared. Suddenly, I could feel tenderness again. That was a frozen ocean melting and surging to meet her. I owe my change in seasons to her. My summer finally returned.”  
> — (via babypsykt)

Derek's sitting in a bar somewhere, (he doesn’t know where he just got in his car and drove and drove and he ended up here and he doesn't have any gas left in his tank and he still can't think straight) and he's so drunk he can barely remember anything. He's slurring his words and telling the bartender that he's really pretty, like really pretty. The bartender is laughing, leaning forward, "That's you're last drink Derek," and Derek doesn't remember telling him his name but the kid smiles again and Derek doesn't really care. Soon he's being herded out of the bar and into the cold air and it feels like bliss against his burning face. The bartender is there, Derek’s arm around the guy’s shoulders, muttering under his breath and he’s asking Derek something that he doesn’t catch.

“What?” Derek doesn’t think he can manage anything but that at the moment, doesn’t think he can think about much more than the cold air and the heat plastered against his side.

“Where’s your car?” The bartender repeats, looks around the parking lot as if he could pick out one of the thirty cars there and just know.

“Camaro,” One word sentences seem to be working for Derek because the kid laughs, says of course, and starts moving again. When they stop he digs into Derek’s pockets and pulls out his keys, unlocking the car and shoving Derek into the passenger seat. He thinks he should tell the guy that he’s out of gas, that the car isn’t going anywhere, but he doesn’t and the bartender’s reaction is the greatest thing ever, he slams his fists into the horn and yells and points a finger into Derek’s chest and he can’t help but laugh at this person who is trying to help him, who is taking care of him even if he doesn’t _know_ him.

“Wait here okay? Don’t move.” And Derek doesn’t, he leans back in his seat and closes his eyes and falls asleep, wondering what the guy’s name is.

He wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognize, a piercing headache behind his eyes and the smell of bacon in the air. Derek gets out of bed, stumbles as he goes dizzy and he thinks he might throw up, thinks he might die, but it soon fades into the back of his mind and he’s moving again. The rest of the apartment is as unfamiliar as the bedroom, but the guy standing in the kitchen isn’t and he turns around and smiles as Derek comes in, flipping a pancake over.

“Welcome to the world of the living.” He says and he puts the pancake onto a plate and holds it out. “Breakfast is ready. Well, more like lunch.” Derek slowly takes it, he doesn’t want to be rude, but all his feelings are coming back up now that he is sober and he doesn’t want to deal with this, with human interaction or eating or being alive and he wishes he had just went back to sleep when he had the chance.

They are sitting at the table eating before he even knows it. Neither of them are talking but the food is good and he thinks he should say thanks, for the breakfast and last night, but he doesn’t. He eats the food and puts the plates in the sink and watches the kid move around like he’s not really there, like he’s just doing the motions and he wishes he could feel like that too, wishes he could block out the world and live like a ghost, a memory swaying through life.

“Do you have anywhere to go? Someone waiting for you?” It’s the first thing either of them has said in a while, hours that feel like days, and he’s looking at Derek like he knows he doesn’t, like somehow he knows Derek is running away from everything and he understands.

“No. I’m new in town.” He isn’t, he’s been here before, used to go here for basketball matches and for Laura’s swimming competitions, and he wasn’t planning on staying for long, wasn’t planning on leaving home for good, but it just comes out and he can’t take it back, not now, and he doesn’t think he wants to. “I’m looking for somewhere to live.”

“Well the bar isn’t a great place to look, buddy.” Now that Derek is sober he can hear how all of the other’s words fall flat, his tone a lie of emotions that he obviously doesn’t feel. The kid laughs and it sounds hollow. “You’re lucky I was working last night, you would have been kicked to the curb with an empty gas tank and no place to stay.” He kicks at the carpet, looks away and Derek has the insane urge to kiss him. He’s never done that before, kissed a total stranger, and he knows if there was a right stranger to do it with, this one would be it, but again he doesn’t and the moment passes and he can’t anymore. “I know a place where the rent’s cheap, I can swing you down there right now if you want.”

Derek realizes they are just standing in the middle of the living room, a plate still in his hand, and he nods quickly, puts the plate down and makes for the door. The bartender laughs again, not sounding any better than the first one, and follows after him.

The ‘place’ he shows Derek is in the warehouse district of the small town. Its three lofts, four floors and none of them are taken. Derek doesn’t have to guess why, not with the way the owner struggles to get the door open and explains why the elevator isn’t working. “How did you find this place?” But the man looks at Stiles like he knows, and why does everyone know these things or looks like they know?

“Uh,” Derek doesn’t have to embarrass himself because the guy takes over for him.

“Stiles, I’m Stiles. And he was drunk at the bar last night Mr. Lahey, and I was working and you know,” The bartender, Stiles, trails off, doesn’t bother explaining the rest and Mr. Lahey doesn’t look interested anyway.

Derek buys the place, doesn’t think of how much it is or how he has an apartment back home or how Laura is going to drop by tomorrow and he won’t be there. If he does think of everything he should be thinking of he knows he’ll change his mind, fill his tank up and go home. But he doesn’t and Stiles takes him furniture shopping to get a bed and a leather chair and a coffee table and he doesn’t comment on Derek’s lack of everything and when Derek’s safely in the loft, _his_ loft, with the bed set up and the coffee table and chair in the living room he finds Stiles’ number written on a receipt crumbled in his pocket. He sets it on the counter and goes to bed and all he thinks about for the next week is the kid and his number crumbled up on the counter next to the take out containers.

When he calls, Stiles answers with that emotionless voice and it still sounds so strange to Derek, because he can’t stop feeling and he wishes he could stop the constant sorrow and anger that has already put a hole in the living room wall. Stiles talks about work and everything but it’s nothing, really, and Derek understands that (he’s glad he understands something because everything is a mess in his head) and he asks if he can come over, he’ll bring food. Derek agrees and pretends not to wait in front of the door for him.

They have sex on his bed, new covers thrown on the ground and the food left on the counter to grow cold. Stiles hands are everywhere, scratching at his hips and digging into his shoulders and he’s breathing into Derek’s neck, moaning load and gasping as Derek thrusts harder, no rhythm or set pace. The bed creaks and Derek can barely hold himself up anymore, Stiles legs wrap around his waist and he cries out, back arching against the sweaty sheets as he comes onto their stomachs, Derek following soon after with a grunt, teeth digging into Stiles’ shoulder.

It becomes a routine and Derek can trace Stiles’ moles with his eyes closed, can find all of Stiles’ sweet spots without thought and that’s what sex is between them, thoughtless and safe and it makes their chests lighter and everything fades away but each other, just them in Derek’s shitting loft on his shitty bed getting each other off like horny teenagers.

Laura calls start becoming more frequent the longer he stays there in Beacon Hills, the longer he doesn’t reply and the longer he doesn’t come home. Stiles ignores the way his phone is constantly buzzing and Derek ignores the way Stiles’ phone never does. They eat take out and Stiles goes to work and Derek reads the books the kid brings over for him, everything from poetry to psychology text books and it works. Stiles smokes with the balcony doors open and Derek takes up the habit. He never had the need for it before, never thought about it but when Stiles hands him one, he doesn’t hesitate to take a hit.

They never talk about why Derek’s there, about family or friends. They talk about summer nights and why the world is the way it is and if they were birds where would they go. They talk about the way Stiles hides his face in Derek’s neck during sex and what would have happened if they were born other people, other places, as each other.

Derek relishes the moment Stiles laughs for the first time, actually laughs and his eyes twinkle in the moon light and he grabs the collar of Derek’s jacket and kisses him hard and doesn’t stop, not until Derek has him pinned against the balcony doors, cock up Stiles’ ass, and Derek whispers to him how beautiful he is, how great and wonderful and amazing Stiles is and it makes him whine into Derek’s neck, dig his nails into Derek’s back as he matches Derek’s thrusts.

The fights are nothing to them, not actual words or anger only biting remarks and rivaling rage, and they always end in sex, Stiles sprawled out on the bed and a bruise on Derek’s cheek and they take out their unhappiness on each other, nails digging too deep and bites too strong.

Stiles talks about how much he hates himself, how much he hates everything on the nights that he doesn’t think Derek is actually listening. It’s the only emotion that is constant with Stiles and Derek’s okay with that, as long as he can still curl into Stiles when they are sleeping, dig deep into Stiles until he doesn’t remember a life without him, doesn’t remember a time he didn’t have Stiles by his side making sarcastic comments about everything, anything, nothing. He doesn’t _want_ to remember a time when Stiles wasn't there and he thinks that might be the reason he doesn’t remember.

“Answer your phone,” It’s a bad day, Stiles anger rising with everything he does, everything he doesn’t do and the crippling guilt of _Kate_ is drowning Derek whole.

“No.” He says and Stiles growls and snatches the phone off the counter and before he can stop him, he answers it, a curt what snapped into the phone. Derek knows its Laura, it’s always Laura. Derek can hear her ask Stiles who he is, why is he answering Derek’s phone, but he can’t get himself to grab for it back, can’t make himself face his mistakes. He lets Stiles face them for him and he hates himself for that.

“Derek is in Beacon Hills, he’s fucking fine so stop _calling_.” Stiles doesn’t hold back his anger, doesn’t take it easy because it was a girl who answered the phone, “I don’t fucking care who you are, you could be his girlfriend and I wouldn’t give two fucks, I just want some peace and fucking quiet in this house without his phone constantly fucking _ringing_! We can’t even fuck without this piece of shit going off.” Stiles doesn’t wait for her reply, doesn’t wait for Derek to say anything either, he just hangs up and slams it down and shoves at Derek. “Fuck you,” but Derek knows the anger isn’t directed at him and his inability to turn off the sound on his phone or answer it. He can see the way Stiles’ shoulders are sloped and his teeth are grinding together and he knows it’s whoever had stopped by his place earlier, whoever had made Stiles sneak out the fire escape and hide at Derek’s all day. When they have sex that night, the phone doesn’t go off and Derek is uncharacteristically gentle as he preps Stiles and the sex is slow and good and drawn out and by the time Derek lets Stiles come he’s a mess and he chants the words ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Derek’ over and over again like it’s the only thing in the world. Like Derek is the only thing in his world.

The next month is a haze of Stiles’ emotions draining back into him and he’s different than when Derek first met him and it’s everything Derek thought, everything he somehow knew was missing from Stiles came back and his words don’t sound so hollow anymore. Stiles starts cooking more, less takeout boxes in the trash and he seems freer, his shoulders don’t slouch as much anymore. Derek can’t make himself care and he thinks Stiles emotionless attitude has slipped into him, taken up residence in his heart like he did in this loft.

Derek gets home from grocery shopping and he puts the food away and he knows something’s different about today, knows everything’s going to change and he can feel excitement and dread building up in his stomach like rabid butterflies flying around. He searches the house for Stiles even though he knows the other has work today, knows he shouldn’t be here. He finds Stiles crying on the balcony, cigarette in his hand, feet dangling off the edge. He's shaking and he looks up at Derek, eyes red rimmed and swollen.

“Why does no one want me?” He chokes and Derek’s body jerks forward and he’s wrapping his arms around the kid and he’s burying his face into his neck and his hands in the short hair and he tells Stiles he loves him, tells him how amazing he is and he ignores the wetness of his shoulder as he rocks Stiles back and forth, he holds him tight and slides his fingers up the others shirt and just held him, like he’s never held anyone before and he breathes Stiles in. It’s weird, because he thought he knew what love was, thought he knew because of Kate, because he thought it was the same as what he felt for his family, Laura, Cora, Anthony, but it isn’t anything like them, _Stiles_ isn’t anything like them. For the first time in a long time he feels okay and he can breathe without choking on everything and Stiles cries into his shirt and holds onto Derek and laughs even though he’s crying and he tells Derek he loves him too.

When they finally go inside, the chilly air forcing their hands to detangle, they curl up in Derek’s bed and they can’t tell where one of them starts and the other ends. Stiles tells him about his mother and her sweet smile and her golden hair and how sick and hollow she looked the day she died. He tells Derek about Scott and how he drifted away before Stiles knew what was happening and how hard it was to talk to his dad without feeling guilty and sick to his stomach. He talks about his dad’s drinking problem and how high school was a daze to him, like a dream you can’t quiet remember. Derek in turn tells him about Kate, about how he blamed everyone for pushing her out of the family even though she stole from them. He tells him how he thought he had loved her, thought she was the only one for him. He says he didn’t know she was abusing him, didn’t see the signs until later when he was afraid to go out and talk to people because she told him he was a freak and wrong and pathetic and when he couldn’t look anyone in the eye and stopped eating. He tells Stiles that when he tried to break up with her, his sister there as support, she pulled a gun on them and shot Laura and he can’t help but think that it’s his fault she almost died and that he ran away because he couldn’t stand being with his family, couldn’t stand being such a mess up and a burden and he still couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes when they talked to him. They fall asleep a mess of tangled limbs and whispered promises and ‘I love you’s.

Stiles brings Derek to his childhood home a month later, and he tries to run, says he’s not ready, maybe another day, _please Derek_ , but Derek knocks before he can and his dad opens the door and Stiles starts crying and his dad starts crying and tells Stiles he’s so glad to see him and Derek stands back and hopes he’s not intruding on this moment. When Stiles and the sheriff let go of each other and look back at him, he straightens and tries to give off a good impression because this is Stiles’ _dad_ and he wants him so desperately to approve of them.

“Who is this?”

“Derek. My boyfriend.” And they’ve never defined what was between them but Derek’s heart flutters and he holds out his hand to shake and his nerves deflate when Stiles smiles at him so big his cheeks must hurt.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Stilinski,” He lets go of Stiles’ dad’s hand and he takes a step back and Stiles wraps an arm around his waist and buries a smile into his neck.

“Call me John.” John smiles and they go in and have dinner and Derek feels amazing, like he’s floating in happiness and when they leave John pulls him aside and whispers a choked thank you and hugs him tight.

When Derek finally brings himself to go home, to bring Stiles to his home, it’s almost three months after he met Stiles’ dad. He fidgets the whole drive there, thinks about turning back so many times but Stiles is there and he smiles and he fiddles with the radio and talks about anything and everything and nothing and they play road trip games and when they arrive Derek can feel his emotions choking him. Stiles’ grabs him and kisses him hard to calm him down.

“You’re going to be fine,” He whispers against Derek’s lips and they hear and scream and they both startle, Stiles’ nose smashing into Derek’s. Derek whips around to see Laura standing in the door way, her purse on the ground and its contents scattered.

“Derek?” By the time Laura is hugging Derek like he will disappear if she lets go, the whole family is outside and joining in. Stiles steps back and laughs at the tears in Derek’s eyes and his surprised expression until he’s pulling Stiles in too, and he feels at home, he looks at Stiles and knows that this is it, this is everything he’s ever wanted and needed and this is it for him, Stiles is it for him. He laughs and holds onto everyone tighter and whispers a quiet thank you to whoever gave him this. To Stiles.


End file.
